


Goodbye Drug

by Selena



Category: Alias
Genre: Backstory, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-19
Updated: 2005-11-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 08:51:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selena/pseuds/Selena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The only thing you were ever sure about regarding Laura was that you weren't in love with her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Goodbye Drug

**Goodbye Drug**

You quit smoking the day after Laura Bristow dies. It's not a sacrifice in her honour, but you feel compelled to do _something_, and this seems fitting; smoke is something you associate with Laura, for various reasons. Later, when you find out she wasn't really Laura and isn't actually dead, you light a single cigarette and feel strangely juvenile and petty at the same time.

The only thing you were ever sure about regarding Laura was that you weren't in love with her. The irony isn't lost on you. You love her husband, you'll love her daughter, but Laura is the one you actually had sex with. You hesitate to call it an affair while it happens, because affairs are something which other people do, people you observe, blackmail and exploit in the name of the government. Not you. You have discipline, and what's more important, you love your wife. You've had plenty of opportunities and excuses in the line of duty, and yet you never were tempted.

But _something_ surely happens between you and Laura Bristow that last year of her life, and it starts at a party when Laura asks you to light a cigarette for her.

"You don't smoke," you say.

"No, Arvin, I don't," she replies, and your eyes meet. You've known her for years, ever since your best friend got serious about marrying her, and the two of you have always had the slightly uneasy relationship of people who are supposed to like each other but don't really, and yet at that moment, it's as if you've never met her at all.

It's a series of motel rooms after that. Not that either of you couldn't afford better, but there seems to be a mutual compulsion to get as cheap as possible. There is plenty of cold smoke in those rooms, and wallpaper peeling at the corners, and sometimes the walls are thin enough to hear the arguments of other people. You and Laura don't argue. The first few times, you don't even talk. This changes, inevitably. One day, the couple in the other room plays the radio, some utterly inappropriate girl group song from the 50s is on, and Laura and you look at each other and laugh, which leads to remarkably relaxed chatter. Another time, she is exasperated enough about some student of hers at the university to tell you about it and you find yourself sharing some work-related annoyance as well, until Jack's name comes up and both of you stop.

When you find yourself looking at a necklace, wondering how Laura would look with it, you know this has gone too far. Well, it has gone too far since you lit that cigarette, but now it's really time to break it off. Except that you're suddenly afraid of her reaction. You don't flatter yourself; she's no more in love with you than you are with her. But if she tells Jack or Emily or both, she could destroy you. You've been as stupid as any of the little men you despise, putting such a weapon into someone else's hand.

Meeting Laura after coming to this conclusion, you suddenly wonder what it would feel like to kill her while the two of you are having sex during lunch break, and you find yourself kissing her, which you usually don't do. The taste of bitter coffee in her mouth mingles with the salt of blood as she bites down on your lip.

You hear she died in a car accident before twenty four hours have passed. The first thing you feel is relief. Because now Emily won't ever find out, and neither will Jack. Because now you won't find out whether you'd have done it, whether you would have killed her to protect that secret. The next thing you feel is shame and guilt, because obviously, this is going to devastate Jack. The third thing isn't identifiable. But it makes you throw away that pack of Camel's, watch it burn in the fire of that fireplace which so few houses have, and it has to be the smoke from all the plastic wrap and tobacco which is to blame for the tears in your eyes.


End file.
